SH Squared - Beginnings
by PartnersInEverythingButCrime
Summary: When Sherlock Holmes meets a young lady by the name of Summer Dame, a girl moving to London to complete her training, he "observes" that she is just like him: alone and completely brilliant. There's just one problem. She actually doesn't mind showing her emotions and sentimentalism. Will they split their differences and become partners in everything but crime?
1. Chapter 1

_Please enjoy the first chapter of my first fanfic: Beginnings, the first of the adventures of SH Squared. _

SH Squared

"Beginnings"

chapter one

The winds harshly howled through the charcoal grey skies, whipping at the crowds of London; thousands of people rushing about to get to certain places at certain times. And the best thing about these crowds, these amazing little human beings, is that they keep shuffling along, not stopping for anything, so sure of themselves. Unlike one young lady amidst those crowds.

With every pace, Summer Dame was reminded of each second she was late for her interview. She strode along as quickly as she could, the rain beginning to drip down from the darkened clouds. The rain splattered on each surface with millions of tiny "drip" noises, which, from Summer's point of view, was enough to force anyone insane. As she glanced about the dull setting of the London streets that surrounded her, she pondered a few quick calculations to distract her mind from the interview that...

One: Would change her life if she didn't spoil it.

And Two: She was exactly 17 minutes and 35 seconds late for.

With a huff of annoyance and a quiet cursing of the rain that was persistently soaking her clothes and hair, she used her right-arm sleeve to wipe away the droplets that gathered on the lenses of her black thick-rimmed glasses before adjusting them to a more practical position in which they lay comfortably on the bridge of her nose. Her jeans had darkened with the soaking rain, her red vans now splashed in a large puddle every 13.7 steps (she calculated precisely) and the navy top she wore clung to her curves. With a heaving sigh, Summer pulled her tan-coloured jacket, which had previously been flappjng about in a tedious manner, across her chest so that at least some warmth could be trapped against her body.

As she tilted her head upward, observations blossomed in her mind. The blonde teen that walked past had recently had her heart broken as her true love disappeared and her previous boyfriend refused to accept her back into his life, the young-ish boy who strolled past with his mother was obviously smoking with a gang at school and had experienced 11 snog sessions in the past week with his secret girlfriend and the mother had accidentally run over her cat three days ago and had two fights with her sister in the past month, and the most interesting was a little girl who sprinted by without a word and was obviously looking for her female tabby cat because she let it out of the house and was rushing to find it before her parents came home from their visit to a relative's.

These deductions entertained her for 3 minutes and 14 seconds before she turned off what she liked to call "observation mode" and attempted to continue work on a conundrum she was figuring out for the rest of her 156 steps remaining to reach Scotland Yard. She continued to look down at her feet, which paced along to a steady beat she committed to walking to. Her long, chestnut hair flowed behind her, restricted by her hair elastic that held together the strands in a ponytail. The winds disappeared as quickly as they picked up, fading in and out. Pulsing, even, to an wild, unpredictable beat as the rain dripped from the dark clouds that hung overhead.

That was when she was met with a solid force, a blur of black and a touch of navy. Stumbling back, she gasped almost inaudibly, but hitting this force wasn't the only things that surprised her. Oh, no. The other thing was the steady hand that reached for her arm, quick as a blink, stopping her from falling any further back as it grasped on to her jacket until she was stabilised. Summer directed her gaze upwards to see a tall man in a dark trench coat with icily narrowed blue eyes and black curls atop his head.

Previously That Day...

"Well, that was great, wasn't it, Sherlock?" John commented cheerily as he pushed open the doors of Scotland Yard and trudging on after Sherlock in the freezing cold. "Who would have though it was the dwarf with three wives?" He mused aloud as his hands reached into his pockets for warmth.

How dull. Sherlock pulled up his collar with an ignorant flourish and treaded along the concrete that lay beside the tar roads.

"Mmpf... I suppose..." Sherlock walked on, his pace steady and his coat rapped around his body, giving him a slightly foreboding and shadowy look. His black curls messed in the winds that harshly howled through the town of London as he twisted his lips into a frown of pure concentration.

"Where are you going? Aren't you going to hail a cab?" John called out to him, losing his friend in the crowds of pushing people.

"I'll walk. I need to think." Sherlock waved his hand back to John, who was drifting further and further away into the streets. If the thief wanted something from that museum, it would have been stolen one of the three nights of the break-ins. No, this thief wanted something else, something more.. Well, we're suspecting his male, but I'm missing something, something important, something that's-

"All the way to Baker Street!?"

John. Again. His voice was so distant, so lost in the crowds and the winds that rushed through the streets. Sherlock would probably be too far away to reply now anyway, wouldn't he?

As Sherlock shook John from his mind, the paces of his thudding footsteps slowed as his thoughts deepened. The breezes ruffled his curls and attempted to move him, but the wind did not stand a chance against this immobile detective, so lost in his conundrums. His thoughts rapidly flew through his mind, going through facts and papers and mental pictures of small things left that could mean so much more than they seem. And if-

Present Time...

Sherlock was met with a slightly stronger force than the wind at that moment: a human being, it would seem. Female and a lot shorter than he was.

'Alright, maybe it wasn't a stronger force than the wind...' he mused. Goldfish did make him laugh sometimes.

His gaze flickered down to the girl, who was obviously about to hit the pavement in .36 of a second, so his hand flew to her arm to stop her. Why? Well, the Sherlock he thought he was would have let her fall. But the Sherlock who met John, however... That's another story.

His gaze flickered over her figure, her clothes, her hair, her face, and before he knew it, he was blurting out every observation he could pick off her.

"26, from Cardiff, moving to London, late for an interview, revisiting university, dad died of lung cancer two years ago, lived with her mum until coming to London 3 days ago, shy, intelligent, has a pet rabbit called Lucy and will forever be single. Eh. Boring." His baritone voice rumbled on but soon as the tall man loosened his grip, "observation mode" flicked on.

"Amateur detective, 28, lives in Baker Street, shares a flat with an ex-military doctor, social problem, violinist, preferred drink is obviously black and two sugars, has an overly protective brother and yet I hint a sibling rivalry from your left sleeve, attempts to be emotionless but recently had his heart broken by someone who got engaged before you got to tell them how you felt, an IQ of 190 and..." The words trailed off uncertainly into the icy winds of London as Summer realised the man was just standing there, staring at her blankly. "Sorry, I mean, most people when I do that th-they say-"

"Piss off." Sherlock finished for her, his lips begging him to crack the smallest of smiles. He refused. "They say that to me, too." He explained. He glanced at the papers hurriedly shoved into the tan jacket she was wearing to find one was sticking out. In the very corner, a neatly-written name was smudged from the rain, but it was readable. "Summer Lykra." He read aloud before directing his gaze to meet with hers with a tint of teasing.

"Y-yeah... I just moved to London to finish of my training and become a detective inspector. Before, I was doing chemistry work but then I changed my mind." She smiled, a little awkwardly before brushing her hair behind her ear. "And, uh, do you happen to know..." She reached down to her pocket and ran through the papers before pulling one out in her right hand and shielding it from the trickling rain with her left. "... Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade?" She read out the name on the paper before shoving it back into her pocket to see the man's eyes light up.

"No, I don't know this Gregory, but I do know a Graham. And if that's who your interview is with..." He tilted his chin up and gave a small smirk before wrapping himself in his trench coat. "... Tell him I personally recommend you."

And with that, he began to disappear into the crowds, walking away with heavy, steady steps.

"Wait! I didn't even catch your name!" Summer called after him, and he halted, spinning around with a flourish of his dark trench coat.

"The name's Sherlock Holmes. And you can find me at 221B-"

"Baker Street!" She finished for him with a small smile before he disappeared around a bend.

_Hope you enjoyed it! I can't wait to see what you all think of it! Leave a review!_

_-PartnersInEverythingButCrime_


	2. Chapter 2

_Hiya, everyone! So, I was about to just delete this story and give up when I saw 42 views, 4 reviews, 3 favourites and 7 follows! So, I was inspired to keep going, it really made my week and so now every week on a Tuesday I will update this story or start another. Also, we won't be seeing Sherlock in a while, but he will return, I promise. :) Enjoy. _

chapter two

Her heart set aflutter, Summer turned her heel with a glint of determination in her gaze and began to continue her hurried, dreary walk to to the Scotland Yard office. Yet now, it wasn't so dreary. He had called her dull, yes at first, but then... Mr Holmes had seemed kind of approving expression after her deductions. A sort of a different expression most had given her... Perhaps this Sherlock fellow, perhaps he was a little different? It was a long shot, yes, but also a very hopeful one. Suddenly, the streets were not so grey and the sky not so dark and gloomy. And the rain didn't seem that bad. God, what was she thinking?! She had a job ahead of her! A future as a DI!

And with that, her lips twisted into a small frown as she pushed forth on the concrete path, the wind lashing at her wild hair that squirmed as it flowed behind her small frame. Her shoes crashed into puddles and soaked themselves in the rainwater and sent droplets flying in all directions until they gracefully dripped to the path.

The rest of the paces to Scotland Yard were of silenced thoughts and narrowed eyes. Mostly narrowed eyes because there was a small smudge on the left side of her glasses, but that's beside the point. As she halted at a large building with the supposedly correct address, she pulled out the papers from her jacket pocket and checked to make sure. Upon making sure that was building was, indeed, the Scotland Yard Office, she stepped forth, pushed open the doors and was welcomed with a warm yet busied reception.

Officers skittered about, some barking orders and others nodding obediently. Three receptionists sat at a reception desk on the far side of the room, two calmly speaking into phones and the other scribbling notes onto paper before typing up something on the PC in front of her. And on that .25 of a second upon entering that room, chaos ensued. Not real chaos, the chaos in Summer Dame's mind. Observations everywhere flickered beside the obvious evidence that was provided (the font she had set her observations to in her Mind Palace settings was New Times Roman size 12, if anyone wanted to know).

And with that, "observation mode" was turned off and the words faded to thin air, making the sight a little more visually pleasing but still quite amuck with rushed people. With an almost inaudible, nervous sigh, Summer approached the reception desk, her wet hair and clothing quietly dripping onto the navy carpet (which apparently stimulated flirtatious emotions because it reminded her of the handsome stranger's scarf, she noted) and glanced at the bronze-framed paintings that hung on the wall behind the desk.

There were two, both hand painted by the same artist, one of a majestic blue dragon with an ember-orange orb placed in its claws (contrasting with the carpet and the tiger lilies arranged neatly in a vase on the desk) and the other of a misty rainforest with small orange creatures but also sky blue ponds that sparkled in the sunlight that streamed through the emerald green leaves of the towering trees (contrasting with the lighter green of the wallpaper of the room and the light blue of the hyacinths which lay in the vase with the lilies.

"Where did you get these paintings? They're highly fanciful." She thought aloud, aiming her opinion at no one in particular. The woman furthest her right (she was the one who was now beginning to continue her note taking) rolled her eyes and called out loudly and in a very thick Northern London accent:

"Next!"

"R-right, right, hi. That's me." She slumped her shoulders a little and stepped forth a little more. "I don't have a case, I'm here for an interview. With uh... DI Lestrade? My name is Summer. Summer Dame." She kind of leaned forward over the marble raised countertop in an attempt to watch the obviously quick to judge woman.

"You're late, Miss Dame." She sneered up at her after a few moments of typing away at her computer.

"Yes. 26 minutes and 39 seconds late now can I please see Mr Lestrade?" She sighed impatiently and the lady just rolled her eyes once again and gestured to a shiny silver elevator to her right.

"Floor 4, ask someone for Greg and they'll show you to 'em." She responded grouchily before returning her attention to her computer.

"Great." Summer finally broke a smile and eyed the pink clothed right shoulder of the woman and chuckled. "Sorry, but I hope you get your bird back." Leaving the receptionist gawping, she turned to her left, strode to the metal doors and hit the glowing button before disappearing into the machine.

The wait was dreadful. Standing uneasily in the elevator, Summer shuffled through the papers which had been stuffed into the pockets of her tan jacket and went through her answers to each and every printed box filled with her very small, very neat writing. Though it only took her a few seconds, it felt like forever. She'd been training for years for this job and would love to take it in London. It was such a beautiful place. So many people, so much knowledge and mystery.

The whirring of the elevator halted with a heavy, metallic clank and an innocent "ding!" She quickly smoothed navy top and darkened jeans, wrung out the ends of her jacket and tapped her vans against the hard floor of the elevator as rainwater dripped from them, leaving small puddles. The doors flew open with a small screech and two officers ushered her out before practically punching the glowing down button and then the "G" one before disappearing behind shiny doors.

Shyly spinning around to face the bustling office, she narrowed down the most intelligent and the most helpful. Two completely different groups of people. But, she managed to find a young lady who had a history of children aid and an IQ of 158, which was acceptable. Summer quickly approached the woman, who was seated nearby and quietly going over a case with a stubby man in a suit. She wore a white cardigan with a grey pencil skirt and blonde hair placed in a neat bun. Not exactly akin to Summer's own "style", yet she seemed acceptably... nice.

"Hi, um, I'm in a bit of a rush to get to an interview but would you mind showing me to where DI Greg might possibly be?" She spoke quickly and to the point and the lady nodded.

"Certainly. Detective Inspector Lestrade ought to be just over... There. That's his office." She rose out of her chair to point to an isolated room to the right area of the office.

"Thanks." Summer nodded and spun to her right and quickly made her way over to the room. She halted at the door, inhaled deeply and knocked on the wood.

The man who answered was really not quite what she expected. Average height, a little over average weight and munching heartily on a donut.

"I told you, Donavan, it's not our-" he stopped for a moment, glancing her up and down. "Who're you?"

"Summer, sir. Summer Dame? I came here for the interview but I'm really late." She sighed, shaking her head and her ponytail of hair flowed along with it and dripping onto the floor.

"Ah. Well, if this were a case you'd be off the job!" He shook his donut at her before shoving it into his empty coffee mug, but Summer soon realised he had forgotten himself. "Come on in, then. And please, Greg's fine."

Summer wandered in and shut the door behind her.

The interview, despite everything building up to it, went well. She found herself nodding in all the right places and pointing to certain filled-in boxes on her forms and some signatures for references and as the meeting came to an end, her mind flickered back to Mr Holmes.

"Also," she added before she was about to head off into the deep, dark London night. "I met a man on my way here. Sherlock Holmes, was it? Said something about my deductions and something about personally recommending me. It was a little odd but..."

The Detective Inspector rose his eyebrows as he sorted the papers in his hands. But before he could say a thing, on perfect cue, a lady burst into the office with frizzy hair and a frown that could kill.

"The Freak? Recommending someone? God, that's low. Even for him." The lady managed to sneer despite her loss of breath.

"Donovan... You better have a good reason t-" Lestrade began, but the lady cut in.

"It's the Freak, though. He's got a lead on the Lone Thief case. We need to go. Now! Get backup." She barked orders furiously, as if she were a mad pit bull in charge.

Greg rose from his seat and grasped his coat before throwing it over his shoulder and whipping out his phone.

"Sorry, Summer, we'll chat more later, yeah? Thanks for coming." Were the last words she heard of him as he sped out the door with that Donovan woman by his side, leaving Summer standing in the DI's office; alone and stunned.

_Now that was a bit of a boring chapter, wasn't it? But don't worry, things are about to get a lot more interesting... Thanks for reading, leave a review! They make my day :)_

_-PartnersInEverythingButCrime_


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